Scrapbook Moments – Dinner and Snow
by Dragonflys-Girl
Summary: His mind had taken a picture right then, of her glowing and laughing and brightening up his world just by being there with him. It would be for the scrapbook in his mind, under their first Christmas together. MacStella


Title: Scrapbook Moments – Dinner and Snow

Author: Dragonflies Girl aka KiKi

Disclaimers: Not mine. Strictly borrowing them to play. Seriously.

Spoilers: None, really

A/N at the end…

--

The road condition was treacherous at best. It was snowing; there was black ice underneath the snow. People were driving chaotically.

NYDP Detective First Grade Mac Taylor being one of the many reckless drivers.

It was not intentional, yet, it had taken all that he had to refrain from using the lights and siren available at his finger tips lest it cause even more chaos on the road.

His lips were set in a grim line as he raced towards her apartment, his heart pounding with urgency to reach her.

The car in front of him slowed down for no apparent reason, and he slammed his hand against the wheel in frustration, "Damn it."

She had called him. He had left his cell phone in his winter coat pocket when she had called. Brian, the lab tech that had recently moved to New York from LA, couldn't begin to navigate himself out of his apartment complex without falling flat in his back and spraining an ankle along the way.

He had been chuckling over Brian's misfortune when he returned to his office to retrieve his cell phone. His good mood, however quickly evaporated once he noted the 2 missed calls and the text message.

_Meet me at home soon as you can._

The two missed calls were also from his partner. He had scowled, cursing himself for forgetting the phone in his office. The words sent a gripping fear in his heart – what happened? Why would she need him at her apartment soon as he could?

She was calling for him and he hadn't been there.

Why hadn't she called the lab then? Did she only have time to make one phone call? Why would that be?

It didn't matter, however, as Mac shrugged out of his lab coat quickly and changed into his winter gear to fly out of the office.

And so, here he was, driving dangerously in an effort to get to his partner soon as he could.

He had to park a few blocks down. The snow, once he stepped out of the SUV, was up to his knee. Scenarios of what could have gone wrong flashed through his mind. It was slippery and definitely too dangerous for a full-out run, so he walked briskly, intending to get to her as soon as possible.

He hadn't even realized how fast his heart was pounding at the thought of her hurt or in trouble in this weather.

The door to her apartment was locked. He rang the door bell and waited for a response.

None came.

"Stella?" he started banging on the door and shouting, his other hand already going to his keys. "Stella, you in there?"

Still nothing.

Taking his gun out of the holster, he clicked off the safety and cautiously opened the door with the spare she had given him.

The apartment was dead quiet; it was dark saved from the lights from the tree at the corner. There was no sign of the Greek detective with a head of wild curls.

"Stella?" he called out again. He really shouldn't be giving away his position, but damn it, he needed to know where Stella was so he wouldn't accidentally shoot her.

The rustling outside her apartment door prompted the cop in him to be cautious, and he moved stealthily to conceal himself behind a bookcase, his weapon ready.

Her front door creaked as it inched open. Peeking over his shoulder, he looked to the front door to see a tall shadow moving slowly into the apartment, following his path. The shadow did look extremely familiar, and once she hit the lights –

"Show yourself and drop your weapon!" she commanded, her gun swiftly pointing to his direction where he let out a sigh of relief.

"It's me," he identified himself, but came out nonetheless with his hands raised and the safety back on his gun. He had no intention of getting shot by his partner.

"Mac," she visibly relaxed too and secured her weapon. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I could have asked you the same question," he retorted, "You said to come as soon as I can."

She looked a little sheepish, and finally he had a chance to take in her appearance. She was still in her full winter gear, her hair tied back from her face, a wool sweater underneath the thick winter coat, contrasting with the white scarf she wove around her neck; she has worn her knee-length boots with her jeans. The look was completed with Mickey's hands acting as her earmuffs.

If she weren't pointing a gun at him, he would snap a picture of her like this for his growing collection.

As it was, he could no longer tell if his heart was pounding from the earlier excitement or from seeing her in front of him.

"I'm sorry," she shook her head as she said ruefully. "I didn't mean to let you think that I'm in danger. I just thought I should fix us both dinner since it's Christmas Eve and I know you weren't planning on spending it with anyone else. "

Realization dawned on him. Had he answered his phone or call her before he had entered into a frenzy would have solved the problem. He waved off her apology, feeling the tension and fear that had accompanied him since he had seen her messages rolling off of his shoulder. Tiredly, he rubbed his forehead, trying to clear his head, "No, no, no. It's not your fault, Stella. I just over-reacted."

She smiled softly at his words and moved closer towards him, "So, can you stay?"

He wanted to say yes that he could stay here no problem, but he knew it wasn't true. There were a few documents that awaited his signatures on his desk. He had planned on getting to before the end of his shift.

"Go," she said before he even had a chance to form a response. "Give me a call when you're ready to leave the office and I'll get dinner started."

He smiled at her offer, and let himself revel in the knowledge that she knew him so well.

His drive back to the crime lab from her apartment was a much different experience. Though the urgency to reach his destination (so he could return to her) was still there, it was a much calmer and relatively painless drive.

Somehow, all the other drivers seemed to be cooperating more with him.

His good mood evaporated, however, soon as he entered into his office and saw the pile of paperwork that he swore had procreated in his absence.

And he learned that life never followed his wishes, even for Christmas.

He could hear her disappointment when he phoned to let her know that he likely wouldn't be able to make it to dinner given the amount of paperwork he needed to go through. She said she understood.

How could she when he didn't understand? Why was it that he willingly give up time to spend with Stella Bonasera to face some mundane paperwork in triplicate?

Or, more importantly, why was he so displeased at the prospect that he had to cancel on Stella? She had never told him her plans, so it wasn't like he cancelled on purpose. He had done it before, to Peyton and to Claire. Heck, even to Stella herself a few years back, after Claire and before Peyton.

So what was it this time that made his missing her last-minute dinner invitation so unsettling?

Realizing that he had stopped signing documents, he pushed those thoughts aside and plowed on. It would take him another good hour to go through all the documents, and he still had hope he could get out of the office before Christmas arrived.

And so he kept on signing.

His wish was granted this time around, when he was able to call it a night by 11. His stomach grumbled, reminding him of his missed dinner, and his mouth watered just from thinking about what Stella would have made for dinner for them.

Rubbing his bleary eyes, he put away the paperwork, his leg dragging behind him. Even the elevator ride seemed longer than usual, and as he reached the parking lot, he was fully prepared to go home, get some rest, and somehow, make it up to Stella on Christmas Day.

"You missed the midnight service," her voice boomed from behind him as he exited the elevator, and she laughed as he literally jumped.

"Stella!" he turned around to send her a glare, which she simply shrugged off. "Are you trying to kill me on Christmas Eve? That's twice in one day you almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Admit it, Mac, you're simply more out of it. I mean, I was standing right here this time, and you didn't see me?"

He shook his head in defeat. There was no arguing with Stella Bonasera when she was determined she was right, and maybe she was right this time, at least partially. He should have spotted her.

"Well, what are you doing here? And why aren't _you_ at the midnight service yourself? You know Fr. Hogan is going to be badgering you the next time he sees you now," he joked with her, knowing the midnight service was one mass she would not miss despite her otherwise irregular attendance.

This woman simply adored Christmas.

"Well, I did go, just not to the late night one," she explained while grabbing onto his hand and tugged. "Come."

He couldn't take his eyes off of their linked hands if he tried. He followed her without any more protests, watching her curls bounced wildly. The touch of her hand sent a tingling up his arm and all the way to his heart.

It was something he hadn't felt for a long time, not since –

"Here we are," she turned to smile at him as she turned to face him, "Take a seat."

He looked at her as if she was crazy, but complied to sit on the rear passenger-side seat.

"Eat up, I don't want to freeze here," she produced looked like one where primary school students used to bring lunch (only the Superman or Batman characters were missing).

When he opened it up, the smell of warm pasta filled the air surrounding them.

"Stell," he looked up, surprised. If he were honest with himself, there was a glint of moisture at the corner of his eyes too. Not that he would ever admit it.

"I'd have suggested we go to a restaurant or a more scenic location than the crime lab parking lot, but I neither want you to starve, nor freeze, to death." she chuckled at her own joke. "You haven't eaten yet, right?"

He could only shook his head as he carefully took out the packaged utensils.

"Well, dig in then," she commanded, and opened the door of the front seat and sat down.

He did as she said and took a bite of his Christmas Eve dinner. It was a little cold now – understandably so when it had travelled the distance from Stella's apartment to the crime lab – but it didn't really register.

She watched him as he ate, and smiled in satisfaction when he finished the last bite. Even without holding a conversation, Mac could feel the strong draw of connection between the two of them.

Sometimes, talking was overrated anyway.

He packed the things back into the bag and set it down beside him, "Thanks, for doing this, Stella."

She seemed shy suddenly, which was an expression he hadn't seen often from his partner. She was looking anywhere but at him while playing with her fingers, "You're welcome. I don't want you to pass Christmas Eve alone."

"Thank you, really, for doing this. I really appreciate it," he reiterated. Their eyes finally matched, and Mac found himself losing in the sea of hazel sparkles. His hand reached out to hers and she moved closer to him. He sighed as he stood up, bringing their joint hands to his lips and placed a soft kiss there. She gave him another shy smile.

He knew it wasn't a big gesture, but it was a start of something. She acknowledged it.

The silence was turning awkward, and he did not want the evening to end, not just yet. Suddenly, an idea struck him, "Are you tired?"

She simply shook her head negative.

"Well, then, it's your turn to come with me," he smiled and held out his hand, waiting. She hesitated before placing her hand in his outstretched one.

He led her to his car and opened the door for her. She looked surprise, but he just shrugged and motioned her onto the car. There were some things Stella Bonasera would need to start getting used to, because Mac Taylor never did things half way.

"Mac, what about my car?" she queried once she was buckled in.

"I'll drive you back to pick it up later," he promised.

Their ride was quiet, and with the silence hanging between them, he could feel the tension in the air. His hand itched to seek out hers, but the slippery roads forced him to not lose concentration. He couldn't afford any accidents when Stella was sitting right beside him.

They got to Central Park and Stella's eyes lit up. She saw the snow-covered ground and turned to him with a bright smile, "Mac, it's beautiful here. I see this every year but it never stops taking my breath away."

He held her back from getting out of the car herself and hurried to her side. She waited for him, but raised an eyebrow at his insistence. He simply shrugged again, "Get used to it."

She bit her lip and tilted her head to look at him, finally giving her consent with equal resignation and amusement reflected in her eyes, "Alright."

He held her hands as they navigated the icy ground, and she let go of his hand when the near the snow. Gathering up a big ball of white slush, she turned to him, her weapon of choice ready.

"Oh, no, Stella Bonasera, you wouldn't dare," he warned.

"Yea?" she challenged and sent the ball of snow flying towards him. He ducked at the last minute to avoid contact.

"Oh, now you're asking for it," he growled back at her, gathering up snow in his hands as he stood, and watched as she laughed in delight and began getting away from him, her laughter ranging loud in the late night.

He remained grounded, mesmerized, and the snow in his hand forgotten. She turned to look at him then, her smile still bright, her cheeks flushed from the cold and the light reflected off the snow gave her a glow.

"Mac?" she asked, slowing down and started to walk towards him again. "You alright?"

He glanced at his watch before looking up, "It's past midnight, Stella. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she echoed, her bright smile back in place.

His mind had taken a picture right then, of her glowing and laughing and brightening up his world just by being there with him. It would be for the scrapbook in his mind, under their first Christmas _together_.

--

Merry Christmas, everyone! Hope this can be a small Christmas gift for all of you who share the interest in Mac and Stella getting together!

I know for many of you, Christmas is almost over (if not over already), and I do apologize for the delay, but I only have 2 words to offer as an explanation for this tardiness: darn computer. Now, let's hear the collective groan of annoyance that you all have uttered before!

Okay, I won't be a Grinch and start bad-mouthing technologies for Christmas (Darn you, computer... *phew*, now I feel better :P ), but this is a belated Christmas story for you all. I hope you enjoy it. It's eh, fluffy for my standard, I think… so hopefully it'll be up to your standard too… and yea, a deviation from my normal obsession of getting into the characters… this is simply surface fluff, and I hope I haven't completely eradicated the characterization too horridly. Oh well, too bad if I did, it's Christmas!

I had been meaning to write something about their wedding since I think I'd be a fun thing to explore with Mac so against PDA's (what would he do when the priest says he can kiss the bride??), and I actually started with a Christmas wedding, with all the explanations on how Stella can have her Christmas wedding at a church too, but then I scraped it… it was too … cliché… and Me, Ki Ki and cliché don't mix well :).

Well, this is for now a one-shot, but I kind of like the idea of the scrap book (of course, I thought of it, I'm going to have to suck it up and like it!) and so maybe I'll continue my non-episode based stories this way… haha… we'll see… maybe one for Dec 31…

So, after all these… review please if this does give you a smile :). I'm considering a New Year Story, as I said *hint hint* *laugh*

Now, enough of my rambling. I wish you all a very belated Merry Christmas, a happy Boxing Day of Shopping and a great 2009!

Xoxo

Ki Ki


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